CHAPTER EIGHTThe Count sat opposite Sylvia in the coach. His head lolled on his shoulders but whenever he raised it to stare at Sylvia, his eyes were baleful.
Sylvia did not know what to say or do. Above even the clatter of the horses’ hooves and the rattle of the coach wheels, she could hear the Count’s heavy, angry breath.
“I…am sorry you lost at cards, sir. Truly I am,” she said at last.
The Count snarled. “A thousand pounds! That’s what I lost! A thousand pounds!”
“That is a great deal to lose,” admitted Sylvia.
The Count regarded Sylvia for a moment and then shifted forward on his seat so that he was leaning across the space between them.
“How you going to make it up to me? Huh?”
Sylvia sat very still. “H..how do you mean, sir?”
“How do I mean?” The Count smirked and laid a ha
